


Maximum Diplomacy

by Vashoth



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Last flight
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Luca is nebulad's, Multi, Spoilers for Trespasser, last flight spoilers, leliana/tabris centric, only a brief cameo by hawke and crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vashoth/pseuds/Vashoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am still intent on finding out why you've been dodging my people," Leliana accused. Macha cringed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Rough Start/Expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm finally coming back to this fic and I'm re-vamping the whole dang thing. I've got a much better approach to it this time I think, so. Hopefully I'll be through the chapter 2 edits soon!

 

**9:20 Dragon**

 

Two Orlesian men stood outside the gates to the Denerim alienage sticking out like coloured lanterns in the dim evening light. Tiny glass beads and sequins glittered in a way that grew more obnoxious the further they were from the Orlesian border. They seemed to be aware of this, and shifted uncomfortably with their hands resting on the ornate basket handles of their long rapiers.

Between them was a small elven girl no more than ten years old in a plain blue dress. A large bow of the same colour tied back perfectly combed brown curls. While the dress looked spotless, the dust that covered her skin and small bruises that dotted around her ruddy elbows gave away her recent travels. The dark of her skin was still pale with dehydration and malnutrition. She looked like she was doing her best to stay awake. Her shoulders were shoved back rigidly and she rocked back and forth on her heels. A baby wrapped in a soft floral blanket was clutched to her chest with tiny white knuckles. Big brown eyes widened when the Denerim guards returned with paperwork in their hands. The slight droop in her ears was the only sign to give away her fear. 

The guards looked irritated and had a little too much swagger in their step that armour alone could account for. They smelled like sour whiskey. The little girl shrunk in on herself a bit. 

“Here,” the left guard said, thrusting the paperwork at the decorated Orlesian man to her left. “The paperwork is approved. You can return that to your registrar or…” He paused to snicker. “... _greffier_.”

The little girl scrunched her nose at the last word. The pronunciation was terrible. The two decorated men next to her on either side seemed to be satisfied and left without further complaint. They mumbled to each other in Orlesian saying things her mother had forbade her from ever even _thinking_ about.  

“So,” the left guard started loudly again. His huge gauntleted hand pressed down onto her shoulder and shoved her roughly through the big chain gate that the right guard cranked open. She tried not to think of the spikes dangling above her head. The guard was saying more in common tongue but his Fereldan accent was so thick that she struggled to pick out words. He guided her through the alienage, babbling something about “citizenship,” “knife ears” and “entry fees.” The little girl wasn’t paying much attention. As soon as they turned the corner onto a particularly dark street, she could feel herself start shaking. The cold gauntled on her shoulder felt like a vice and she was very, very aware that she could not overpower this man. This _human_.

The guard lead her to a broken in door held upright by some carefully placed rope and nails. He banged his fist roughly against the wood and turned his nose up in disgust when the wood panel he hit sprung out of alignment with the rest of the door. The babe in the girl’s arm started to whine and the girl prayed with all her heart that they could just get inside the house. She would be safe if she could just get inside the house.

A tall man opened the door. The first thing the girl saw were his long pointed ears and immediately the fear left her. She couldn’t help a few tears from escaping though, and shifted the baby’s weight awkwardly to wipe them away.

It took the man only a second to spot her and he immediately knelt down to wrap her in his arms. The girl buried her nose deep in his shirt and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“You must be Macha, dearest!” He pulled himself away to look down at the bundle in her arms. He let out that soft gast people always had when they looked at babies. “And this must be little Shianni! Come in, come in. Thank you so much, gentlemen.”

He ushered her inside and closed the door gently. Even though she could still see the outline of the human guard retreating, she let her grip on Shianni loosen just a little. Of course, the baby chose then to begin squalling. The man, her uncle Cyrion, rushed over to take Shianni up in his arms and coo at her until she calmed. Macha hadn’t realized how much ache had settled into her shoulders. She felt heavy. 

She heard Uncle Cyrion saying something in his funny Fereldan accent, but she needed to lie down more than she needed to listen. Stopping right where she was, the little elven girl curled up on the floor of the house. Before her eyes drooped shut, she saw two more sets of eyes blinking curiously at her.

 

* * *

 

**9:48 Dragon**

 

"It just seems ill advised." Macha Tabris walked briskly into Divine Victoria's formal working quarters. She had on a simple blue dress and had her silky brown curls tied loosely behind her neck in such a way that strands always seemed to find their way out. Leliana wasn't entirely convinced this was accidental. There wasn't much Macha did that was. The short elf pushed one of the said strands behind her ear and wasted no time in pulling a stack of papers from the worn leather satchel resting on her hip. "Read this. Bhelen is quite literally asking for my head as if I had any involvement whatsoever. And given his current standing, the threat is politically unwise-"

"Hello, Peaches."

Macha's hand froze from the papers she'd placed next to the stacks of holy books. Big brown eyes went comically wide and though Leliana had not confirmed it, she was nearly positive her lover's ears flattened when she was so horrified. She stuttered over her own teeth and looked at the bookcases behind Leliana like she would find a prompt or cue waiting for her.

"Of course! Hello! I'm so sorry, Leli." Macha'd regained her posture in seconds and rushed behind the desk to pepper Leliana's face with kisses. She moved carefully so as not to unpin the fancy new hat but the firmness in her fingers grasping Leliana's face was unmistakable. It warmed the Divine's heart in a way only fresh bread could mimic. "I've missed you terribly. At the same time, I-" Macha paused and a grimace peeked through her smile, "I suppose I assume you're always with me. That you know everything I've seen and more."

"It's not a bad guess," Leliana said slyly. A single arched eyebrow raised carefully, "Although you are better at evading my eyes and ears as of late." She tugged Macha closer by the waist until the elf fell into her lap with an exasperated sigh.

"Do you not worry of rumours?" Macha scolded her gently but she smiled through the words. 

"I welcome them, dearest." Leliana buried her nose in the crook of Macha's neck until she got the contented sigh she sought. "Though a clever skirt of the question, I am still intent on finding out why you've been dodging my people." 

Macha tsk'd. "It wasn't a question so much as a guilt trip and I won't have it. Spying on your own girlfriend is tacky."

"Should I dismiss Sister Eunice, then?" Leliana’s voice was soft against her throat. 

The elf hummed appreciatively. "No, let her practice. Maker knows she needs it. I caught the poor thing trying to dupe a lesser Nevarran duchess by claiming she was a long lost cousin. Her accent will come in handy, but she needs... Well. She needs many things." She leaned into soft pale skin and touched her nose to the freckles on her lover's shoulder. Moments of peace were a rarity among Wardens, and more so for Macha. She sighed. "I hate to say it, but I'm here for business."

Leliana's pout didn't need to be seen directly to make its presence known. Her whole torso stiffened and she twisted enough to force Macha to look her in the eye. "I have not seen you since the ceremony at the Sunburst Throne, Macha. I am a patient woman but—" 

"Far more patient than I deserve, Leli, I know. I'm sorry to have—" 

"No!" Leliana pressed a single finger to Macha's lips and did her best to ignore the soft kiss from even softer lips pressed gently to her fingertip. "None of your silver tongue, Peaches. You are not abandoning me to paperwork after I haven't seen you for…" She trailed off. 

"A year," Macha spoke into the finger, looking properly abashed. "I know, but—"

"But what?" Leliana felt her voice rising. "What is it that's so necessary to keep from me? Do you think me stupid enough to think you're _still_ looking to cure the blight?"

Wrenching herself away from Leliana's deft hand, her curls bounced when she snapped in protest. "I am looking for a cure! And for the _calling_ , not the _blight_ but," Macha took a deep breath. She tried to entwine their fingers and cease her girlfriend's attempts to silence her with a fluid motion but Leliana was having none of it. Macha halted the explanatory speech with a cringe. She settled for grasping the offending hand in both of hers and pursing her lips. Her eyebrows lilted upwards pleadingly and--

"I know, Leli, I know. I really am sorry. I wouldn't do such things if it weren't absolutely necessary. You have to know that, right?" 

"I don't have to know anything." The chill in her voice was unmistakable.

Macha looked as though she’d been stabbed. The life bled out of her eyes but she nodded. "I suppose that's true." 

They sat together in silence. The Warden Commander chewed her lower lip, eyes distant under thick lashes. She still held firmly onto Leliana's hand, pale like cold milk in comparison to her own warm brown calloused hands. Notches cut lines in the crooks of her fingers where she held her bow string and even more dashes scattered across the backs. She flexed the skin and squeezed Leliana’s hand gently. 

Leliana's eyes never left Macha's face, watching for the tell tale signs she'd learned to spot during the Fifth Blight. When she was trying to come up with a convincing lie, her right eye would narrow more than her left and she would let her hair fall in front of her eyes despite it bothering her to no end to have her vision blocked. _To appear more casual_ , she'd mentioned once offhandedly. _Even if you aren't, you always appear more nervous when you're fiddling with something._  

The dress did little to hide the boniness in her shoulders or the clavicle that poked out more than was fashionable. Her cheeks had been dusted with a warm rosy red but up close the hollows beneath her cheekbones were clear. Leliana sighed and let herself relax. A small smile broke Macha's concentration and she shot Leliana a cautious look.

"Did I pass inspection, Divine Victoria?"

Leliana snorted, "You always do, don't you?"

A quiet but genuine laugh bubbled through Macha's features. It didn't quite erase the worried tilt of her brow, but she allowed herself a small stretch of her back. She blinked her eyes hard as if it would banish away the tiredness. Leliana disentangled their hands and lightly pushed her fingers through the elf's thick hair, tugging the wide white ribbon out with ease. "Does this have to do with the Inquisition? Because, technically, they disbanded." 

"'Technically'?"

"Mm. It's complicated." Macha looked like she was about to interject with more questions, so Leliana spoke quickly. "And irrelevant if the Inquisition is not the reason for secrecy, no?"

The words Macha had been forming halted at the tip of her tongue. She frowned. "It's not the Inquisition, Leli. It's not even about…" She huffed a big breath and shrugged. "It's kind of it's own thing. And it's dangerous information to have."

"So you are protecting me, then?"

"Yes!" Macha said enthusiastically. "Yes, _exactly_!" One look at the frost forming in Leliana's gaze gave her enough of a heads start on backpedaling. "Not that I don’t believe you aren’t perfectly capable of protecting yourself, _of course_. But you're such an important figure to Thedas that such a petty danger would be a nuisance not worth your bearing."

"If it is so petty, then why does it require the secretive allegiance of the Queen of Ferelden?" One of Leliana’s fingers had twisted into one of Macha’s thick curls and tugged gently. Macha tilted her chin up to lessen the pressure so Leliana added more.

Macha scowled down at her. "I am not the _Queen_ . Technically I’m not even a citizen anymore." 

"Alistair and Anora could be half giant, half pride demon, wear a crown the size of a ship, and I doubt any citizen would recognize them." Leliana grinned. "Save for dear Teagan, of course, and even he never has roses thrown at his feet when he visits the cities." 

"It happened once, and news never accurately reaches Lothering anyway." Macha tried to grumble but she looked a little pleased. "Besides, they both prefer I make the speeches. Though speaking of halves—" 

"Elven, by Fiona, I know." Leliana tried not to sound too smug. "She is a lovely lady."

"I'm still not sure how to tell him, honestly." Macha stared at the hand resting on her knee with her mouth tugged to the side. "Or if I should. He's terrible at keeping secrets and now is not the time for that to be revealed. It could be much more powerful later when Gaspard is taken care of."

Leliana smiled broad and dangerous. "My, Miss Tabris, are you planning an assassination?"

That earned the Divine the first openly hostile glare she’d seen since taking the Sunburst Throne. The rest usually had the courtesy to keep the bile spitting behind her back. Leliana couldn’t keep herself from snickering at it. Macha did not appreciate it.

"No." She spoke harshly, standing up off Leliana's lap and tersely straightening her skirt. She snatched the white bow from Leliana's desk and had her hair braided back in a second. "And this is why I can't tell you. You will try to _stab_ your way through the issue."

"I’m not suggesting a bloodbath, Macha." Leliana sounded indignant. "And you must admit the man is absolutely foul."

Macha sniffed, still determinedly packing up her satchel and slinging it on her shoulder. Leliana groaned. She took the hat off her head and placed it on the desk delicately before going to wrap her arms around the elf from behind. Hands wove under her arms like snakes and she had the petulant Warden grasped by the waist. 

"Alright, if you cannot tell me, then don't." Leliana squeezed lightly. "I would trust you with my life. But I will insist you protect yours."

Macha pivoted in her hold and draped her arms around Leliana's neck. Still, there was suspicion in her gaze. "I am foreseeing a long lecture about why I should poison my arrows, yes? I've told you I won't partake in such vile—"

Leliana laughed and kissed her nose. "No, Peaches. In this instance I recommend a bodyguard. Someone less squeamish than you." 

"Someone less _squeamish_ ," Macha placed extra disapproval on the word, "just as fast, discreet, and trustworthy enough? I doubt I can afford that. It wouldn't be wise to empty the Chantry coffers for your secret girlfriend so soon, love."

"I know someone that will go for free." Leliana's eyes twinkled. She swayed their hips together and raised an eyebrow. 

"Absolutely not."

"Oh come now. Surely you cannot expect that I quit the field completely? I am no less sharp than I was ten years ago." Leliana pouted prettily and Macha was doing her best to ignore it. Leliana reached out to snag Macha by the wrist and tugged her close again. Macha put up some obligatory resistance but allowed herself to be pulled back onto Leliana’s lap.

"And what," The elf huffed, "am I supposed to say when the Queen of Fereldan and the newly crowned Divine Victoria are caught on a mission that could alter the political scene as we know it?"

Leliana kissed across Macha’s cheeks and nose. "More so than an actual Dalish god walking among us?"

Macha blinked at her with wide eyes and considered it. Leliana took the opportunity to steal a real kiss. Macha’s surprise melted into comfort and her arms drapped comfortably around Leliana’s neck. She broke away and leaned her forehead against Leliana’s. She looked like she was still trying to be mad but the corners of her mouth were betraying her. "…Quite possibly, yes, but I'll want more information on that later."

"Well you can't think I'm staying home after hearing that," Leliana laughed and let go of Macha’s waist. She gently pushed the smaller woman off her lap. Macha was sulking and grumbling something about treaties being shaken to their foundations but Leliana had already ducked into her wardrobe to sling a pack over her shoulder. Feathered arrow fletching stuck out indiscreetly from a pouch in the front and when she shrugged off the red and gold robe, Macha saw the ornate gem laid daggers sitting on the woman's hips.

Macha's eyes narrowed. "You were expecting me."

"Of course." 

When Macha was truly angry, her fists would ball up and her entire person would exude coldness. But this Macha in front of Leliana just glared with her nose scrunched up in frustration. She took a carefully measured breath and let her eyes flutter closed. The tension left her shoulders and the Warden's eyes strayed to the papers she had stacked on the Divine's desk. She let out her breath defeated sigh. "We do have to deal with Orzammar first, though. That's not negotiable."

Leliana was already pushing past her towards the intricately carved double doors. "The Maker himself could not stop me from leaving that damn desk, Peaches." 

Macha laughed. She hefted up the stack of papers in one arm and leaned the weight on her hip like she would carry a toddler. Macha’s bright smile disappeared Leliana as the woman exited the room. Like a light had been switched off, the dark circles under her eyes were somehow heavier. She fell back into a warrior’s stance as if it were more comfortable. Scanning the room, a bright yellow note pad caught her eye. She tugged it closer with an outstretched finger and stared at it, the door, then the quill still dipped in the inkwell nearby. In one fluid motion, she roughly dragged the quill harshly enough to spill the ink across the desk and hastily scrawled on the pad:

_In Peace, Vigilance_

_In War, Victory_

_In Death..._

She scribbled something intentionally illegible beneath the bold words and tossed the quill aside. 

"Peaches? Are you coming?" Leliana's voice rang in the marble hallway loud enough to come through the doors. Macha's lips formed a thin line, still staring at the artificial struggle she'd created for a moment. Reluctantly, she threw the stack of papers to scatter across the ink stained carpets as well. She looked at them glumly. The commissioned printing had been worth a small fortune. Little perfect black letters spelling out the details of Orzammar’s fake complaint stared back up at her, the spilled ink drenching the corners and spreading through the thinly woven paper like blood. 

"I'm coming!" Macha hurried out of the office and was careful to shut the door quietly behind her. She took a moment to school her face back into place before turning around. The elf had on her best imitation of irritation mixed with exasperation. But the light in her eyes was back. "Are you sure I can't convince you to stay here?" 

"Not a chance, love."

Macha smiled. "Then I suppose I have no choice."

 

 

* * *

 

 

**9:20 Dragon**

 

Macha sat at the breakfast table with a scratchy green blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Somewhere behind her she could hear Shianni gurgling. In front of her the wooden table--held up by three legs and a flower pot--was covered in plates full of vibrant greens, bright reds, and a succulent fruit she’d never even seen before. Cyrion sat across from her and watched her with a warm look on his face. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked gently. Macha opened her mouth to respond _oui_ but quickly shut it again. She nodded.

To her right was a young boy with bright eyes and shaggy hair that looked at her like she might start glowing at any second. _Soris_. She repeated his name in her head again and avoided his gaze. To her right was a kid that looked about her age. _Gahruil_. They slumped in front of the table and prodded indelicately at a beige pile on their plate. They reached across the table for another spoonful of the roasted fish and smushed the juices in with the mash. This seemed to make them happy. The current dilemma, however, was with the stack of buttery leafy something that was on the far end of the table next to Gahruil’s right elbow. Macha had been waiting patiently for them to look up at her so she could gesture without having to speak but they seemed determined not to communicate.

Macha swallowed thickly. “Gar--” she felt herself roll the r-sound and abruptly stopped. She tried again. “Gah-reel.” 

Close.

Gahruil tensed and glanced at her. She tried to smile. Gahruil stared patiently, but said nothing.

“You.. uh.” Macha stuttered again waving her hands towards the plate. Gahruil’s eyes widened and stared at her hands. Macha looked down at her hands, wondering if she had a bug on her knuckles or something but saw nothing. Still, they looked like Macha had just personally spit in their tea. Macha cringed and wilted. 

Cyrion came to the rescue quickly, moving his hands intricately at Gahruil while saying aloud, “I’m sure Macha wasn’t trying mock you.” He gave a cautious but hopeful look at Macha. “Isn’t that right?”

Macha felt her face flare up. “ _Desolée, desolée!_... ah, no, _sorry!_ Sorry, Gah-hahrl. _Gah-reel_. Sorry!”

Gahruil was trying to make frantic hand gestures back at Cyrion who watched them worriedly. He tried to make soothing gestures, so Macha copied those.

 _Mistake_. 

Gahruil was on their feet in no time, red in the face with anger. Macha could feel tears welling up in her eyes again and willed them to leave her be.

“I don’t understand…?” Macha blinked her eyes hard to stop the tears and could hear Cyrion shuffle to his feet to put his hand on Gahruil’s shoulder.

Understanding bloomed on his face. He gently turned Gahruil around and spoke slowly, again pairing the words with complicated hand motions. Macha felt herself trying to copy his motions but stopped when he gave her a stern look. Soris, if it was possible was even more wide eyed than normal. Macha hated this. She _hated_ this. She wanted to go home.

“Gary,” Cyrion caught Gahruil’s attention again. _Gary_. Macha tried to commit the nickname to memory. “Macha is going to be staying with us for a while. If I’m not mistaken,” he paused here to look up at Macha, “she does not understand sign language. Would you teach her for me?”

Macha clawed through her memories of her mother teaching her the common tongue for the meanings to those words and came up with nothing. She shrugged helplessly. Gahruil had turned to look at her over their shoulder. Their eyes narrowed on her and Macha felt like she was back under the grip of the guard. 

Gahruil turned around fully and slowly raised one hand. Macha mimicked them. They nodded. Good. _Good, Gahrui--Gary isn’t mad at me_. She thought excitedly. She stared at the hand and followed a few gestures not really understanding what was happening. Gahruil began to get frustrated and Soris was trying to speak up behind her. Cyrion waved him into silence with a look and encouragingly said, “Let Macha learn. She’s already doing well!”  

But Gary started using the same gesture over and over again. Macha tried to mimic it, but Gary would just shake their head and frown. She tried harder, stared harder at their fingers to see what her mistake was, but she didn’t see anything different. She didn’t understand what she was doing at all, never mind what she was doing wrong.

“ _Je ne vous comprends pas! Je ne_ \-- I do not understand. _Pourqoi vous ne me disez pas_? Uh. Can you… ah?” Macha balled up her fists in frustration, trying to think. She pointed to her mouth. “Speak! Can you not _speak_?”

The room stilled. Macha’s heart dropped to her feet and Gary looked like they’d been hit. Cyrion was staring at her in shock. _She didn’t understand_.

In a split second, Gary had reached over to their plate and grabbed a fistful of the fish soaked mash and threw it as hard as they could at Macha. Cyrion cried out to stop them, but Gary avoided his grasp and dashed out the front door. 

Covered in the damp, goopy fish stench, Macha began to cry the big wet tears she’d been holding in since she left Orlais.


	2. Silence in the Gallery/Art of the Compromise

**9:48 Dragon**

 

They had not taken two steps out of the grand hall before Macha tried her best to oh-so-subtly shift her cloak around her shoulders just so it covered the Warden insignia she had embroidered on the left breast pocket of her dress. Her fingers toyed with the hood bunched up around her collar anxiously, waiting for the first gust of breeze for the excuse to flick the tip of the hood over the top of her head to hide away her ears and hair. It was unlike her to be so secretive about her affiliation and that worried Leliana. However, the utter lack of grace in her casual motions and the distinct nervousness in the way her eyes tracked the movements of the chantry sisters in the great domed building worried her more. If Macha was nothing else, she was a master of the game. This was _sloppy_. 

The newly appointed Divine silently them through the Grand Cathedral with the confidence and grace of someone who had been there forever. Bright golden light shone through glass paneled windows depicting the burning of Andraste, the burning judgment of the Maker, and miscellaneous flames surrounding Her followers. The gold lining inlaid in the floors glowed in the mid-morning light, reflecting the artificial fires. Deep red torches with great gold-lined glass bowls held false candles sporting a single lick of the fire held utterly still in the windless bowls.

Despite the flames, the ornate passages were made of too much marble to feel warm. In part, Leliana was glad for the thick robes she usually had on to show her status. But now in plainer garb, she looked more like a student resident. And she understood now why they were always shivering.

They passed huge double doors with Lumen Suum carved and gilded in gold. Her Light. The Divine’s chambers--in theory. When Macha shot her a curious look Leliana couldn’t stop the smug smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve taken a few liberties.”

Macha’s eyebrow raised as the plain-clothed Divine instead lead her to a supply closet near the end of the hall. It was maybe two meters deep and held the usual array of brooms, dusters, and mops that seemed to always be damp. Leliana moved two of the brooms over to the left side of the closet, and replaced them with a dusty glass vial of something light blue. Cleaning fluid, maybe? Macha thought. 

The blue liquid began to glow dimly. Not cleaning fluid.

“The copper acts as a transistor for heat,” Leliana explained. “When the energy is returned from the lyrium dilute, then-- Ah! There it goes.”

The back wall lifted silently into the ceiling to reveal a staircase leading deeper into the walls of the Cathedral. Leliana turned to watch Macha’s face but Macha gave her only a road-weary smile as encouragement. Another pang of worry struck through the Divine's heart. 

Macha sat on the stairs and waited while Leliana shuffled through her long narrow room to gather her supplies. She very quickly changed into the chantry robes she'd worn when the treasonous Warden Tabris stumbled into Lothering so many years ago.

Silken and red, they looked like nothing particularly out of the ordinary but some quick prodding told Leliana that the leather guards she'd stitched in herself were still as present as ever. It felt odd, looking in the mirror to see a much older version of the girl she had been; like staring at her own imposter. The seams on the hips tugged tight as they did around her arms. It was not too much as to be uncomfortable, but it was more than enough to remind her exactly how long it had been since she'd taken up arms.

“You’re so beautiful.” Macha’s voice was soft. Leliana saw her stand and pad softly over to enclose her arms around Leliana’s waist. Macha’s calloused fingertips pressed gently into the silk and tugged her closer until the Warden was pressed flush against her back. Macha was a fair bit shorter than Leliana; just tall enough to press her face between Leliana’s shoulder blades if she stood on her toes. “I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this, love.” 

Leliana turned around in the embrace and curled her finger under Macha’s chin. She tugged upwards to gently pull Macha into another kiss. This one was slower than the one in the office. Leliana took the time to weave a hand behind the elf’s neck and stroke the edge of her ear with her thumb. Their breathing slowed, breath warm in the cold stone chambers. With her eyes shut, the cramped quarters felt like the dungeons they used to sneak through so many years ago. Like darkspawn were waiting just around the corner to break apart their stolen moments.

Pulling away, she saw that Macha’s eyes stayed shut. She looked so tired. Leliana stroked a thumb across her cheek. “You could drag me to the Black City, and I would complain only mildly.”

A smile broke across Macha’s face and immediately she looked years younger--like the young Warden with a taste for justice like a murderer had a taste for blood. Macha’s eyes were half lidded and still she avoided Leliana’s gaze. 

“That’s the problem, love.”  Macha stared at the hand on her cheek and pressed her own on top of it. She leaned into it like she wanted to drown herself in Leliana. “I don’t want to be responsible for you losing what you’ve worked so hard for.”

“You could not if you tried, Peaches,” Leliana challenged teasingly. “I am not some hapless Chantry girl anymore.

The smile returned a little and Leliana counted it as a victory. “Were you ever?”

“Never.”

She felt a genuine laugh tickle through Macha’s throat, though the elf pointedly made no sound. “I don’t suppose you have any visions for me?”

“None that are appropriate to speak of under a Chantry roof.”

Macha’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on by a holy figure.”

Leliana had quietly traced her hand around Macha’s hips and hovered dangerously at the small of her back. “I can do more than that, you know.” Her fingertips pushed down, down, down sliding under the hem of Macha’s pants to squeeze gently.

Macha jolted and stepped away with a sharp laugh that felt too loud for the room. A deep scarlet creeped up around her throat, through her cheeks, and to the tips of her ears. Some hair had come loose from her braid that she fiddled with nervously.  

“Perhaps not in the Grand Cathedral,” Macha said slyly. “There’s blasphemy and then there’s _blasphemy_. Especially an exiled Warden with the _Divine_.”

Leliana pouted, but it did not reach her eyes. She reached out to grab onto Macha’s hands again and press a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Such responsibility, Peaches. This must be a serious secret task indeed.”

“It’s not that,” Macha’s eyes were narrowed and pensive, the right slightly moreso than the left. _Lying_. Leliana frowned. Displaying a tell in plain sight wasn’t like the careful behavior of someone who had danced circles around Empress Celene. _Maybe it was on purpose?_ Macha hadn’t seemed to notice--or if she had, she made no attempt to hide it. Pulling her hand back a little, Macha tucked her hair tightly into the braid. _Curious_. “It’s just been a long trip.”

The part of her that still felt like the Nightingale hissed at her to press the Warden on the lie. It was so _obvious_. Macha met her gaze without flinching, resting her weight on one leg and wilting to the side like she couldn’t remain upright much longer. Were it another context it may have been a subtle challenge. But…  

Leliana nodded. “I’ve almost finished packing Peaches. Why don’t you rest for a bit while I organize the necessities?”

Macha looked guiltily at the bed like she was thinking about refusing. Leliana squeezed her hands and let them go. “Go on, dear. It’s just a few minutes. Duty can wait that long.” 

The elf’s drooped ears spoke her concession for her. It wasn’t how Leliana had imagined having Macha in her bed again, but the soft snoring coming from the curled up Warden came within seconds. She looked worried, even in her sleep. Leliana pursed her lips and decided then to pack extra restorative vials.

 

* * *

 

 

**9:22 Dragon**

 

“ _Aneth-ara_ , children!” An elderly elven woman with silver hair braided into thin strips sat serenely with her back leaning against the Vhenadahl tree. She addressed a large group of elven youths--some clearly more excited to be there than others. Macha, of course, sat in the front with big brown eyes staring up at Auntie adoringly. Gahruil sat comfortably in the back.

“ _Aneth-ara_ , Auntie!” The children’s uniform response was well practiced. Still, you could hear Macha’s voice as clear as a bell from within the chorus. Gahruil had deigned to remain silent.  

As Auntie explained the activities for the day, Gary let their eyes wander to the market surrounding them. Their hair had grown over the past couple years just long enough to tie back. Still some loose strands fell in front of their eyes. Their lanky brown limbs seemed to be made entirely of sharp elbows and pointy knee caps when they sat on the rocky ground. It was impossible to find a way to lean comfortably without puncturing a palm, or losing feeling in _something_. So they settled for bouncing about between different positions.

Macha was in a dress she’d made from soft flour sacks. The pretty plaid pattern was more vibrant than most of the clothing sold in the Denerim alienage. As if the bright blue and green stripes weren’t enough, she had that bright blue bow partially tying back her thick brown hair. IT was curled like it always was--almost enough to be ringlets but not quite. Her posture was perfect and she sat motionless with her eyes locked on Auntie. The very model of obedience. Gary pursed their lips. They weren’t even five minutes into “lessons” and Macha had already pissed them off. The way her eyes lit up at the stories of Shartan and Andraste couldn’t have been more _fake_.

Gary had never quite recovered from their first rocky meeting. Macha had refused to acknowledge that she’d done anything wrong, and Gary refused to forgive her for it. And it wasn’t as though there hadn’t been ample opportunity. The cousins shared a bunk bed. They were literally less than five feet apart for most of their waking hours. All she would’ve had to do was even mention it, “oh, sorry that I made fun of your disability within seconds of meeting you,” and she might have been able to redeem herself somewhat.

Still, she kept carrying on in increasingly better common with that stupid Orlesian accent about the importance of words over violence. She would regale her small gaggle of friends with stories of the terrifying chevaliers and how she had single handedly stopped them from senseless violence with just words. Utter bullshit. Macha hadn’t even known why she was sent to Denerim until last year.

Gary was less challenged by verbal communication now, but still it was a source of major discomfort. Macha, to her credit, had learned to sign but often refused to when they were in public for fear that it made her look “foolish.” She was of course _stunned_ when Gary didn’t take kindly to this reasoning.  

Sharing a bunk bed was just about all Gary and Macha shared in common.

Auntie was waving her hands dramatically in the air, retelling some fancy tale of Andraste. Macha and the gaggle of girls and boys equally as annoying _ooh’d_ and _ahh’d_ at the appropriate moments. Occasionally, Auntie would point to someone to say a famous line from the story and toss out candy to whoever shouted it back at her. Extra candy if the kid got really into it.

The younger ones and the good ones sat towards the front and all competed to catch Auntie’s eye. Macha was her favourite because _of course she was_. The teenagers who no longer cared to hear the same stories--and Gary--sat in the back where they were less likely to draw the elderly elf’s attention.

Gary could see their dad’s shiny blonde hair at the stall where he sold sweets and fresh loaves of bread. He was animatedly talking to a young man about the metal wheelbarrow he used as a portable oven. Gary had shoveled the coals into the contraption that morning since Macha had already “gotten ready.” They wondered how loudly Macha would scream if Gary dumped the burned ashes into her clothing chest again. A small smile escaped before they thought better of it and--

“...Gahruil! Why don’t you tell us what Shartan said?”

Auntie was looking at them enthusiastically, hands outstretched as if she planned on guiding a newborn during their first walk. She’d spotted the smile and mistaken it for interest. Gary’s blood ran to ice and their mouth opened soundlessly. Fury raged somewhere behind their ears--just out of reach. They couldn’t speak. They couldn’t sign. 

There were small waves of giggles rippling through the front rows. Auntie tried in vain to hush them, but she was smiling too. It wasn’t a hostile smile. That’s probably what hurt the most. Gary wasn’t even enough of a person to be taken seriously. How could they be expected to find their voice without encouragement? What a fun little project they must be to the rest of the kids. Gary’s eyes locked on Macha’s like daggers knowing that somehow this was her fault.

Macha’s voice pierced through the silence like sewing needle. “They don’t _like_ speaking, Auntie. Maybe you should pick someone better suited?”

 _Better suited_. Coal dust was definitely going in the clothing chest.

Auntie, bless her well intentions, tried again. “I’m sure they’re just waiting for the right words to say! Aren’t you, Gahruil?” More giggles. 

 _They weren’t._  

“You might be waiting a long time,” Macha’s voice was sickly sweet. 

Giggles burst into full laughter. Auntie cringed visibly and tried to re-direct the kids’ attention but it was too late. Gahruil had taken off running towards the bread and sweets stand. It was the thirty-second time they’d abandoned Auntie and her stories.

 

 

* * *

 

**9:48 Dragon**

 

Paranoia still crept inside Leliana’s veins without slowing, but she pointedly ignored it. She already had a necessities pack (crossbow and knives included, of course) hidden towards the bottom of her closet for emergencies. Ironically, next to the fancy blue shoes she'd worn to her coronation. She would have considered the symbolism more if she’d had the time. She wrapped ne purple scarf around her head in the fashion of a chantry habit. The cloth draped over her shoulders and nicely covered the knife harness she had strapped to her chest. The cold metal pressing into her rib-cage on either side was comforting.

She gently squeezed Macha’s shoulder to wake her and immediately regretted it. Macha bolted upright, eyes wide and hand at her side like she expected to find her sword there. Fingers frantically grasped at air until her memory seemed to catch up with her. She blinked up at Leliana and relaxed a little. _Not suspicious at all_.

Macha's eyes immediately darted to the scarf, and an eyebrow shot up. "Are we in hiding already?" 

"I only wished to match your own hood," Leliana returned dryly. "Are you not hiding your face? Or are you just making an outdated fashion statement?" She did not miss the elf's wince as she guiltily pulled her own hood over her hair and ears. 

"I, well… that's fair."

"We are nowhere close to fair yet, Macha." Leliana's voice didn't rise above a whisper, but still Macha looked worried at her name being spoken. It was like someone had replaced the brilliant political tactician with a skittish child. "Once I know more, perhaps we can re-negotiate." 

Macha's lips pressed into a thin line and she nodded tersely. She turned away strategically to avoid Leliana taking in more of her tells. She no longer pretended to need guiding down the halls of the Grand Cathedral.

The night air was a surprising relief when it came. They'd dallied way too long in the stables to leave before dusk, but Macha had insisted on taking the most non-descript mule and a chubby pony named “Flower” instead the well-bred stallions. Leliana argued speed and strength; surely necessities on a mission of such importance but the elf stubbornly refused. She insisted that she was not about to 'borrow' fine horses from the Divine herself. Girlfriend, or otherwise.

Though she did appear somewhat regretful (more specifically, _green_ ) as Macha heaved and bobbed where she sat on the  pony’s back.

She babbled on and on about Orzammar and the crisis of the deep roads that was shaking King Bhelen to his ill-tempered core. There had been an undocumented thaig found, something further beyond where they had fought Paragon Branka. They had, unfortunately, _also_ found Branka's grave. And there was very little like a makeshift grave over a battered corpse to make it very clear the Paragon had _not_ died from starvation. In fact, Bhelen was claiming Macha's own dagger had been found lodged in the dead woman's chest.

It was possible, of course. But doubtful. As squeamish as the elf was about violence, she never did anything so reckless like leaving behind evidence. And Leliana would've remembered having big brown puppy eyes asking her to destroy the corpse for her, if she had thought it absolutely necessary to kill Branka directly instead of letting Zevran or Gary do it.

"—and he's saying that not just me, but _all_ Wardens are responsible for her death. Absurd, I know, since I was a traitor to the Wardens then—technically—but it seems to be a popular opinion these days." Macha's brow was furrowed and her lower lip stuck out in a pout. The orange sunset danced like fire in her eyes as she continued. "After Adamant, I'm not sure he's wrong. Regardless, the key to resolving this issue does not lie in tearing up those ancient contracts. Do they think the blights will simply stop because they find the problem inconvenient? It's lazy politics, honestly."

"Are you not exiled from Fereldan?" Leliana interjected suddenly.

Macha scowled at her. "I thought the Inquisition was disbanded?"

"It was," Leliana agreed, "But there hasn't been an official retraction of the order."

"Hm," Macha focused intently on her gloved hands on the reigns. A wry smile teased at the corner of her mouth. "I don't think I'm being optimistic when I believe the King would allow me to remain as an exception."

Leliana snickered. "I doubt Alistair could manage to exile you even if he did want to."

The elf made a play at looking offended but dissolved quickly into pleased giggles.

Still, her eyes watched the trail ahead of them like she was expecting an ogre. She slouched forward in her saddle and her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of her travel sack. She'd changed from the embroidered blue dress in favor of one with no markings. Unless someone were to search the side satchels slung across the pony's back for weaponry, there was no indication that the tiny elf was anything more than an Orlesian citizen travelling with a Sister for holy protection. And even if they did find her quill of arrows, Leliana doubted a normal highway guard would immediately assume she was lethal with them.

Leliana felt her own features sour and focused on the road ahead of them.

"Am I to know what I'm protecting you from, at least?" Leliana prodded. She didn't have to look to see Macha's back straighten and her face to fall into a carefully neutral expression.

"Your own worry, I believe," Macha teased. "Something about a guard willing to travel for free? The Divine herself recommended you."

"Hah hah," she returned coldly. "Very clever."

"Alright, alright," the Warden Commander conceded. "For now, just worry about Bhelen trying to poison me from the shadows before I can even address the issue at hand. Though I do want to make it very clear that that requires defense only, Leli." 

"Sometimes the best defense is a pre-emptive offense."

Macha scowled openly at her. "This is not one of those instances." She halted her lecture suddenly, and frowned like she was remembering something unsavory. "That being said… I uh. Well. We may have some… questionable company."

Leliana didn't humour her with a response. She lifted a single eyebrow and stared pointedly at the elf until she fidgeted.

"I required the talents of the Champion of Kirkwall—"

"Luca Hawke?" Leliana nearly fell off her saddle. To the mule’s credit, it seemed unphased. "The famed apostate, _blood mage_ known for setting her own city ablaze?"

"That seems harsh, love." Macha scolded only half seriously. "The blaze was hardly intentional."

"Oh, _good_." Leliana's eyes narrowed on her. "Then we can tell Bhelen the massacre of his city was also an _accident_."

Macha did look offended then, snapping her head to meet her girlfriend's gaze directly. "Don't be crude. I didn't hire her for violence and I made it very clear that she was to remain out of Orzammar entirely until we send for her."

"We?" The bard caught the word like a note off-key. "I thought you had planned to venture alone?"

"I had." Macha looked back to the trail. "I doubt the letter I've written will read any different unless you wish for me to include the Divine's greetings?"

 _Touchy_.

Leliana fell silent again and tugged her scarf closer around her to fend off the biting chill in the wind. She had not missed this part of adventuring. Nor was she looking forward to sleeping on the rocky ground. It was harder to convince herself of its necessity when she had chambers decked out with soft feather pillows back at the Grand Cathedral. The beast beneath her skin kept trudging along the road nonetheless, ruthlessly tearing her away from the life of a civilian. 

She looked at the tether between the mule (she’d named Nugglet) and Flower. She noted the slight lead taken by Macha's own mount and wondered dismally how long it would be until she could convince her to rest.

 _For camp or forever?_ The thought came unbidden and filled her mind with pictures of townhouses in Val Royeaux city center, canoe rides into the harbour, and leisurely days spend tasting the foods and wines across the world they'd worked so hard to save.

The image of mabari puppies and homemade breads only served to sour her mood further. Macha would be cold in the ground before she gave up on this stupid world, she knew. At the very least she could delay that day for as long as possible.

"Forgive me, love," Macha's voice was quieter. It matched the sounds of the hills around them in softness. "I don't mean to fight after having been away for so long. I've missed you so terribly and…" She paused, savouring the break and finding the right words. Even casually, Leliana thought. It was as charming as it was irritating. "...and I am admittedly nervous."

"About Bhelen?" Leliana blinked. "He couldn't find his way out of a paper bag if Celene herself rose from the dead to shown him the hole in the back of it. You could play the Game in circles around him, Peaches."

The elf's cheeks flushed and she bit her lip to keep from smiling too broadly. Relaxation threatened to tug her back down into a comfortable slouch, but Macha remained stubbornly upright. "Thank you, Leli. I hope you're right."

"And this non-violent job you have for Hawke… I assume she knows already to be discreet?"

Macha did laugh at that. "Of course! Lovely woman, and her family is certainly… close," she said tactfully. Leliana snorted. "But she is not exactly known for blending in. I advised them to remain in New Lothering until I sent for them formally."

"Them?"

"I am not so foolish as to assume Hawke would come alone," A tight smile matched with a tired look rested all too comfortably on the elf's features. "Especially after Adamant."

Leliana nodded thoughtfully. "And she knows this is to be a non-violent mission?"

"Well," Macha winced, "mostly."

Leliana grinned something fierce and toothy. " _Mostly?_ "

"Oh, _come now_ —"

"And here you are lecturing me about violence!" Leliana laughed. She mimicked her lover's cross between an Orlesian and Fereldan accent with ease. "Don't just _stab_ your problems, Leliana! Use your _words_ , Leliana! Oh I would _never_ kill an _innocent_ , Leliana!"

"Well technically Branka is already dead," Macha bristled. "But if such complicated matters arise, for example my dagger _actually being lodged in her chest_ , we would be wise to bring someone with us capable of removing such evidence." 

"Ah," the bard nodded and tucked her braid back behind her ear. "Such as a skilled healer and blood mage. Interesting."

" _Necessary_ ," Macha corrected. "Believe me, I tried to find a way around it. Though it is rather comforting to know that the famed mage and her spouses will be with us in the Deep Roads." She smiled and reached out to Leliana and waggled her fingers meaningfully. Leliana laced their fingers together. They were warm against the chilled air. The elf continued absently, "As I believe you are fond of reminding me, the darkspawn do not take kindly to politics."

 


End file.
